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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244944">I'm Not A Monster</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl'>firstdegreefangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chenford Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Rookie (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Boxing &amp; Fisticuffs, But they fix it, Communication, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feelings, Fist Fights, Lucy takes kickboxing, Tim puts his foot in his mouth, by accident, talking about feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:41:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m taking some classes. Trying to learn how to fight my monsters.”  </p>
<p>“C’mon, that’s the only reason you’ve got?” Tim jabs lightly at her midsection, teasing with his actions as much as his words. “I’m not a monster.” </p>
<p>OR: Tim offers to spar with Lucy, and he gets more than he bargains for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Bradford &amp; Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chenford Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chenford Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm Not A Monster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucy unwinds the tape from her knuckles, breathing hard as she sags against the wall of her gym.  </p>
<p>“Good work today. Nice form.” She hears her instructor's voice distantly, whichever trainer they’d had leading the kickboxing self-defense class she’s started taking on Thursday afternoons; she’s already forgotten his name.  </p>
<p>Not that it particularly matters; she’s not planning to take the classes forever. Probably not even more than a few months. But after everything that happened to her back in December, her New Year’s resolution was to find her confidence again. She’s tired of lying awake at night, wondering if she could have fought Caleb off if she’d only had better hand-to-hand combat skills. The academy had taught her how to work magic with her collapsible baton, how to find the basic pressure points on someone’s body, which nerves she could compress to drop someone to the floor. But she hadn’t learned much about how to fight someone off without any sort of weapon but her own hands and determination. </p>
<p>So the first thing she did with her January was find a gym that offered kickboxing classes geared toward people trying to protect themselves. She quickly realized that she knew more than she’d thought, that she could throw a solid punch and kick with lots of power, but needed to refine her form.  </p>
<p>Every week she showed up, right after her shift, leaving Mid-Wilshire in her workout clothes and coming home two hours later, exhilarated and exhausted all at the same time. When Jackson had first asked where she’d been, she’d dodged the question, pointing to the smoothie in her hand and saying she’d stopped for a pick-me-up on the way home. But he hadn’t let that slide for long, and she’d finally had to come clean when he threatened to hire a PI, make sure she wasn’t being tailed by any more serial killers.  </p>
<p>It had been comforting, in a way, to see how worried he was, and the way the relief had sagged in his shoulders when she’d told him what she’d been doing with her evenings. Sometimes he meets her at the smoothie shop around the corner from the gym after her classes, listens to her ramble on about how to kick an assailant in the ribs without injuring your own ankle, which part of the hand to land a punch with.  </p>
<p>And he waves at her on the other nights, when she’s not going to the gym but doesn’t follow him out of the station and drive home right behind him. Those nights, Jackson walks with her as far as she’s going, waves while she wraps her hands carefully and lets loose on the sandbag hanging in the division’s small fitness room.  </p>
<p>Tim always waves too, when he walks by a few minutes later, and even though she’s never said anything to him, she gets the feeling that he knows exactly why she’s hanging around, why she can’t let go of the day just yet. </p>
<p>Usually, she finds herself there after the long shifts, when she hasn’t been able to help everyone, hasn’t saved the world, or even the neighborhoods she and Tim patrol. She’ll work off the excess energy, burn the anxiety out of her limbs. But she keeps swinging, even when her muscles start to burn and sweat plasters her hair to her face.  </p>
<p>Because after a few minutes, it’s not about the shift at all. Not anymore.  </p>
<p>It’s Caleb’s face, painted in her mind’s eye across the front of the punching bag, Caleb reaching for her as she scrambles through the yard, no idea where she’s going to go once she’s free of his grasp.  </p>
<p>She hadn’t gotten free, when she’d actually been his captive. But now, when she can rationalize through the situation, apply what she’s been learning, she’s able to win. She fights just as hard as she did that afternoon, putting every ounce of her weight, every last bit of her rage and fear into the punches she throws. It’s just a sandbag, her target never hits back, but some nights she can still feel his hands on her, feel the sting of the pepper spray in her eyes.  </p>
<p>She’ll swing a little harder then, push herself for a few more minutes before she lets Caleb fade from her memory and drops her fists. Only then can she relax, sagging against the wall and mentally examining her form. Every time, she can feel herself improving. Her form grows a little tighter, her focus progressively more clear as she devotes all of her energy to the fight in front of her.  </p>
<p>She never stops for more than a split second, just long enough to wave at Tim when he walks by.  </p>
<hr/>
<p>Tim can hear the hits before he’s even able to see into the gym; the solid <em> thwack </em> beating steadily into the vinyl. </p>
<p>He’s surprised, though, when he turns the corner and sees Lucy rocking back and forth on her heels, laying into the punching bag like it’s personally wronged her. Her shoulders are coiled up, and he notices that every hit is near perfect.  </p>
<p>She never falters, never breaks her rhythm, even though he’s almost certain that she can see him in her periphery. Tim watches for a moment, then lifts his hand, expecting her to wave back like she always does. </p>
<p>When she ignores the gesture, in favor of a particularly resounding sidekick, Tim knows right away that there’s something different going on today. There’s more fuel in her fire, something just barely under the surface that she’s fighting against. </p>
<p>He doesn’t have a good reason for why he stays, but instead of turning away, he leans against the doorway, crossing his feet and folding his arms. The longer he watches, the more obvious it becomes that Lucy is fighting harder than usual today. She never eases up, pounds incessantly into the sandbag, every hit harder than the last.  </p>
<p>Tim waits, watches to see if she’ll let up, but the minutes tick by and she shows no sign of stopping. Clearly, the passive attacks on a punching bag aren’t doing much to draw the tension out of her form; if anything, she’s wound tighter than she was when he first walked by.  </p>
<p>So he sighs, pushing his weight off of the wall and crossing behind her to wrap his own hands and put on a pair of lightweight gloves. He waits again, but when she still doesn’t let up, he just takes a breath and moves around her to catch the back of the bag, lean his weight forward to steady it.  </p>
<p>Lucy hits into it a couple more times, then steps back and shakes her arms loose, bouncing on the balls of her feet. </p>
<p>“What are you doing, Tim?” </p>
<p>“Picking a fight with you.” </p>
<p>“What?” Her brow furrows and she steps back to take a sip from her water bottle, sitting on the bench behind her. </p>
<p>“You need to hit something that’ll play back a bit. It’ll do you better than just letting loose on an innocent punching bag.” Tim steps back around the bag, shifts his weight from one leg to the other and jabs the air lightly. </p>
<p>“Like what?” </p>
<p>Well, he’d thought this much would be obvious. </p>
<p>“Me.” He shrugs, and when Lucy approaches him again, he reaches out and nudges her shoulder lightly. It’s not enough to throw her balance, even if she’s not expecting it, but just enough provocation to get her to push back. She rolls her shoulder back, knocking his hand away, and shoves his arm. </p>
<p>“You sure you can keep up? I’ve been practicing.” </p>
<p>“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”  </p>
<p>As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he hits her again, a light knock to the side of her head. She punches his stomach, and they’re off and running.  </p>
<p>It’s fun, throwing light punches at Lucy and ducking away when she tries to hit back, freeing in a way Tim hasn’t felt in a long time. He’s giving as good as he gets, meeting Lucy strike for strike, laughing when she tries to swipe a kick across the backs of his knees.  </p>
<p>She throws him off his balance for a second, he’ll admit it, but it’s not enough to knock him down. His years of police work, the fights he’d been in even before he hit the streets with a badge on his belt, they’re enough experience that he wobbles a bit, but turns out of it and slugs Lucy low on her hipbone.  </p>
<p>“Nice try, Boot, but you’ll have to do better than that.”  </p>
<p>She grins at that, rolls her head from side to side and swings again. This time the end of her glove brushes his jaw, but he can see the hit coming far enough in advance to lean away from any actual contact. </p>
<p>“Nice form. Just try not to look like you’re getting ready to hit me next time.”  </p>
<p>“I was getting ready to hit you.” She cocks her head and swats his arm gently. </p>
<p>“Yeah, but you don’t want me to know where you’re swinging for. Takes all the fun out of it.”  </p>
<p>Tim eyes her closely for a moment, then shifts his weight forward. He waits for Lucy to lean away from it and fakes her out, jabbing his other hand into her ribcage.  </p>
<p>“See?”  </p>
<p>She doesn’t say anything in response, just lands a solid punch to his stomach. Even through the glove, the impact knocks some of the wind from his lungs and sends him reeling forward slightly. </p>
<p>“So that’s how it is?” He wheezes a little bit on the end of his laugh, leaning back upright and throwing a punch that Lucy blocks with ease. “Where’d you learn all of this? Know I’ve never made you square up and box a suspect.”  </p>
<p>“I’m taking some classes.” She’s a little breathless, and Tim has to force himself to stay focused on the moment, not start thinking about how else he could take her breath away. He pulls his attention back to the present just in time to catch the last thing she says. “Trying to learn how to fight my monsters.”  </p>
<p>“C’mon, that’s the only reason you’ve got?” Tim jabs lightly at her midsection, teasing with his actions as much as his words. “I’m not a monster.” </p>
<p>He doesn’t know what happens next, but it’s like all of the light is sucked out of the room, right down to the spark behind Lucy’s eyes.  </p>
<hr/>
<p>“I’m not a monster.” She hears the words in her training officer’s voice, but when she blinks, Tim is gone, replaced with Caleb standing in front of her, throwing punches at her head.  </p>
<p>Her side starts to itch, the numbers he’d carved into her skin burning like they’re fresh again. She’s not in the barrel, not yet, but she knows what’s coming.  </p>
<p>Unless she can fight him off.  </p>
<p>This is it; what she’s been preparing for every day since it happened the first time, the ultimate worst-case scenario.  </p>
<p>But today, she’s ready. This time, she knows what to do. </p>
<p>She stops bobbing up and down, squares her feet and tucks her elbows in closer to her torso.  </p>
<p>The punches come naturally, just as she’d hoped they would. It’s easy, muscle memory as she leans back, throws her body weight forward as her fist drives into his chest. She’s throwing everything she has at Caleb, knows the only way she can save herself is to fight harder this time, hard enough that there’s no way he can keep up. </p>
<p>She can feel her muscles growing weary, but she can’t give up now. </p>
<p>So she takes a deep breath and swings again, putting everything she’s got left into fighting for her life.  </p>
<hr/>
<p>Lucy’s next punch packs a sting, hitting right at the edge of Tim’s collarbone. He pulls back, tries to shake it off, but before he can recover, she’s swinging again.  </p>
<p>They’re not playing around, not anymore. Lucy is coming at him like her life depends on it, and he has a sinking feeling that she thinks it might.  </p>
<p>He’s not about to have his ass kicked by a rookie, and besides, this is clearly a fight Lucy’s been gearing up for, so Tim doesn’t back down. If there’s something she needs to prove, to him or to herself, then he’s ready to find out what it is, help her get her feet back underneath her when she’s done. </p>
<p>His mind is racing, an endless barrage of ways he could put an end to this, lay her out right now. But that’s his instinct talking, and he knows that. He also knows that Lucy doesn’t actually want to hurt him, even if it might look like that’s what she’s trying to do now.  </p>
<p>There’s something bigger going on, so he pushes against the voice in his head telling him to fight back, to win at any cost. Because the cost here could be greater than any number of bruised ribs or bloody noses.  </p>
<p>Tim lets her tire herself out, hits hard enough to be a formidable opponent but carefully enough not to actually injure Lucy.   </p>
<p>She's impressive, though, and he’s surprised to feel sweat dripping down his face, his shirt sticking to his back. The unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing over a grey T-shirt isn’t even close to good workout attire, but he hadn’t actually been planning on much exertion when he’d stepped up behind the punching bag.  </p>
<p>He’d hoped to have a little fun, throw some easy punches at his rookie before he went home to crack a beer and watch whatever sports game he could find. Build some more rapport between them, see what Lucy’s able to do if she ever needs to fight someone in the field.  </p>
<p>Hell, he’d wanted to have a good time hanging out with his friend. </p>
<p>But clearly she had something else in mind, something more intense than the playful sparring he’d been anticipating. He can feel it coming off of her in waves, forcing him to step up and swing before she can get the best of him.  </p>
<p>Before long, he’s putting almost everything he’s got on the line, just to keep up with her. It’s pretty close to an even fight, once Tim stops having to convince himself not to throw her to the mats. He’s holding back, but only a little bit, only enough to play clean, not tap into the street-style fighting he’d done back in the day.  </p>
<p>Eventually, Lucy slows down, exhaustion pulling against her. Tim ebbs too, easing up to meet Lucy on her level. He’s still not giving in to her, or trying to cut her off, but he’s not going to bring more to the table than she does, so he steps back a bit, swings a little more softly.  </p>
<p>They’re back to the easy give and take, the lighthearted fun that they’d started with. But just when he’s found a rhythm here, quick as it came the first time, Lucy picks up the pace again.  </p>
<p>She’s found a second wind, and she’s swinging full-force again. It’s not quite as intense as the first round, but Tim’s stamina isn’t what it used to be, so he’s still pushing himself pretty hard to keep up. He wants to be a formidable opponent, but still give Lucy a safe outlet for … whatever it is that’s pushing her to fight this hard. </p>
<p>Twice more, Lucy backs off and lets Tim follow her lead. It’s a short break for them both, just enough of a breather that Tim can keep up with her. Finally, she relaxes again, steps away from him and peels her gloves off. She’s breathing hard when they hit the floor, and when she turns around to reach for her water bottle, there’s sweat sticking her shirt to her back.  </p>
<p>Tim is panting too, shaking his gloves off without undoing the Velcro and bending down to rest his elbows on his knees. But he watches her out the corner of his eye, making sure she’s recovering alright from their rounds, and from whatever brought the added intensity.  </p>
<p>Lucy is impressive; he’s known that since practically the moment he met her, but she proved it to him again tonight. She’s also going to take years off his life. He already knew that too, but if he didn’t before, he does now. If the physical exertion weren’t enough, the way his heart is still pounding and he can already tell his ribs are going to ache in the morning, there’s his concern for her wellbeing too. </p>
<p>Something changed in her, and he can’t put his finger on what, exactly, it is, but it worries him a little bit. </p>
<p>What if it happens again? What if next time it happens, they’re in the field and he can’t look out for her? Tim know he’d never hurt Lucy, not if he could help it, but what if the next person she gets in a fight with isn’t so careful? Or if she hurts herself? He’s seen firsthand the dangers of sloppy fighting, and while Lucy wasn’t anywhere near ‘sloppy’ tonight, she might not be so focused if it happens again.  </p>
<p>And he still doesn’t know what happened, so a myriad of possibilities are racing through his head. The thoughts come one after the other, from wanting to see if she could take her TO in a fight to … to things so bad that Tim doesn’t want to acknowledge those thoughts by giving name to them.  </p>
<p>After everything she’s been through, everything he’s seen her survive this year alone, what if something else happened? There’s plenty of things she probably wouldn’t tell him about, no matter how much he wants to be there for her. She could have been attacked, assaulted in the worst ways, and he would have no idea. </p>
<p>Until he’d said whatever he’s said that triggered her fight-or-flight response. He wants to know what he did, where things went wrong, if nothing else so he can keep it from happening again. </p>
<p>But there’s only one way to find out. So he takes a deep breath, turns to face Lucy head on and steps close enough that his shadow makes her face dark. </p>
<p>“Should we … talk about whatever that was?” </p>
<p>She looks up at him, and her expression shifts again. She’s not angry, not this time, but she won’t meet his gaze and she draws her shoulders up as her arms cross. One hand runs up and down her arm in an attempt to self-soothe, and Lucy’s bottom lip disappears between her teeth. </p>
<p>“Did … did I hurt you?”  </p>
<p>“Nothing that won’t heal.” Tim hides a wince and drops down beside her on the bench, close enough to keep her engaged but carefully leaving enough distance that she won’t feel boxed in or cornered. “What happened back there?” </p>
<p>“I told you, I took some classes.” She’s turned her head away from him; it makes her soft voice harder for him to hear, but he makes out the words anyway. </p>
<p>“Yeah, you mentioned that. They’re paying off. But you know that’s not what I meant. Something changed; what was it?”  </p>
<p>When Lucy turns back to face him, her eyes are wide. Tim could be mistaken, but he thinks there are tears wetting her lashes. Her voice is tight, emotions trying to stop her from answering. </p>
<p>“Do we,” she takes a deep, shaky breath and starts over. “Do we have to talk about this here?”  </p>
<p>Tim stares at her for a moment. He knows what he wants to say, what he thinks might be the right answer, but he’s acutely aware of the risk in what he’s about to offer. Still, he knows that she’s not going to bare her soul here, not in the station, where any of their coworkers could overhear whatever she’s about to say. And he really does want to help her, however he can.  </p>
<p>So it’s his turn to take a deep breath and hope that he’s not about to make things even harder for his rookie. </p>
<p>“I can buy you a drink?” </p>
<hr/>
<p>They end up at a tiny bar a few blocks from Tim’s house. It’s not the sort of place he usually frequents, too often packed with sad divorcees drowning their sorrows in the neck of a bottle. </p>
<p>(And yes, he recognizes that his divorce from Isabel has only been finalized for a few months now, but he’s not sad about it. It’s what had to happen, so both of them could move past the end of their marriage and have a better future.) </p>
<p>But it’s not Mid-Wilshire, and they’re not likely to run into anyone they know, so he lets Lucy follow his truck, pulls the door open for her and waits to sit down until she’s slid up onto a barstool. He takes the seat next to hers and motions for the bartender.  </p>
<p>“I’ll take a Stella. Lucy?” </p>
<p>“Margarita rocks, please. Sugared rim.”  </p>
<p>Tim manages not to roll his eyes when the bartender gives them both a cheesy thumbs up and turns to mix her drink. </p>
<p>Neither of them say anything until their drinks are in front of them. Lucy leans forward and runs her tongue around the rim of her glass, licking the sugar off of a section of it, and Tim has to take a long swig of his beer to keep his mouth from going dry.  </p>
<p>He pushes down the way his stomach clenches as she works her way around half of the edge. Even if Lucy knows exactly how suggestive the action is – and really, she almost has to realize what she’s doing to him – this isn’t the time or place for those thoughts. He can do better than the divorcee bar, and he’s not going to let himself get distracted until he finds out what happened back at the gym. </p>
<p>Finally, he can’t take it anymore and breaks the silence. </p>
<p>“Lucy.”  </p>
<p>She snaps her head up to look him in the eye.  </p>
<p>“I … I’m getting there, OK?” There’s fear behind her eyes, and Tim hates the sinking feeling that he’s the one who put it there. He holds both hands up, the universal signal for surrender and nods his head once. </p>
<p>“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget the question.”  </p>
<p>Lucy looks down again, staring at her glass, but makes no move to do anything beyond breaking eye contact. </p>
<p>Tim counts silently to himself, figures he’ll let her stew for five minutes before he says anything else. It's just over a minute and a half, by his count, before she opens her mouth. </p>
<p>“You’re not a monster.” She takes a deep breath and looks up at him again. “Caleb was. He-he tried to tell me that he wasn’t, he gave me water and tried to tell me that he wasn’t a monster. That's exactly what he said: ‘I’m not a monster.’ But he was. He … he was, and he tried to kill me and he almost <em> did </em> <em> , </em>so I started taking kickboxing classes, learning to fight better, just in case … just in case it happens again.”  </p>
<p><em> I’m not a monster</em>. </p>
<p>Suddenly, the pieces come together in Tim’s brain. He remembers Lucy saying that she was trying to fight her monsters, remembers grinning and saying “I’m not a monster,” right before she snapped.  </p>
<p>Had Caleb grinned when he said it? Did he really try to convince Lucy that he wasn’t a bad person, or was he just saying it?  </p>
<p>There’s so much more Tim wants to know, <em> needs </em>to know, so he doesn't let something like this happen again. But there’s no way he can ask those questions.  </p>
<p>“Lucy …" He realizes that the sentence isn’t going anywhere and trails off. </p>
<p>“You’re not. I-I know that you’re nothing like he was. But you said … that, and … did I tell you that I got loose?” Tim feels his eyes go wide and he shakes his head. “I fought him off and I ran. But there wasn’t anywhere to go, just desert. He caught me and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t <em>do anything. </em>I … I lost the fight. I can’t let that happen again.”  </p>
<p>“You didn’t lose, Lucy.” Tim reaches over, closes the space between them to rest a hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “You won. And you’ll win again next time too, if it comes to that. Because you’re a fighter.”  </p>
<p>Something squeezes his fingers, and he looks down. Somehow, his hand had slid down to wrap around hers. He looks up, and can tell right away that she noticed it too, but didn’t say anything. </p>
<p>He doesn’t let go as he continues speaking. </p>
<p>“A damn good one, too, if the bruises I’ll be sporting tomorrow have anything to say about it.” He chuckles, refusing to let his face betray the pain in his ribs at the movement from his lungs. </p>
<p>“Sorry about that.” Lucy laughs with him, and looks like she’s getting ready to say something else, but he cuts her off before she can explain everything away. </p>
<p>“Don’t be. You need to take another swing, you’ve got my number.” </p>
<p>Lucy hesitates for a long moment, swirling the stir stick around in her freshly refilled drink and watching the whirlpool it creates instead of looking at Tim.  </p>
<p>Just when he’s starting to worry about her silence, just when he’s starting to think about taking the offer back in case he’s upset her again, Lucy takes a breath and shifts her gaze to watch him from the corner of her eye.  </p>
<p>“What if I don’t want to hit you next time?” </p>
<p>Oh. Well that’s not what he’d been expecting to hear her say. He’s not sure, after the night they’ve had, but he thinks she might be trying to flirt with him. Which is certainly not something he’s opposed to, surprising though her response may be.  </p>
<p>“Number’s still the same.” He takes a sip of his beer before he can say anything else, push too far or too fast. Especially after everything else that’s happened tonight, he doesn’t want to misstep.  </p>
<p>But he’ll pick up the phone, any time she calls, and he wants her to know that. However she does or doesn’t feel, whether or not they act on those feelings, he wants to be there when she needs him. Whatever she needs from him. </p>
<p>“And if I don’t want to wait for next time?” This time, she locks eyes with him, and there’s no mistaking the look on her face. It’s not quite an invitation to take her to bed, but her feelings about him are written clearly across her expression, and the way that she’s still holding his hand on top of the bar. </p>
<p>“Lucy, you’re …" Tim trails off, trying to put the words together. He doesn’t want to tell her no, isn’t trying to reject her. But this isn’t a move they can make lightly, with both of their careers and reputations on the line. “It’s been a long day,” he settles on, tipping his glass into the space between them. “We've both been drinking.” </p>
<p>“I haven’t even had two margs. Trust me, Tim, I’m not drunk.” He studies her face carefully, not that he needs to look closely to know that she’s telling the truth. He’s spent enough evenings with the whole group to know that Lucy needs more than two drinks to even have a buzz. But he takes the excuse to admire her features, then stands his ground. </p>
<p>“Still, let’s take it easy, OK?” He squeezes her fingers, hopes she reads into the gesture everything he’s trying to say without words. <em> You’re a rookie. You’re </em> my <em> rookie. We can revisit this in a couple of months, but until then you’re welcome </em> <em> to beat up on me whenever you want. I'll even buy your drinks after. </em>“At least until my ribs heal.” </p>
<p>He can’t be positive, but he thinks she gets the message. There’s understanding in the way she smiles at him and wrinkles her nose.  </p>
<p>“Fine, but only because I still feel bad for beating the crap out of you.”  </p>
<p>“Hey,” Tim waits for her to look at him again, needs her to know that he’s not going to hold the punches against her. “What kind of cop would I be if I couldn’t take a couple punches and keep going? Besides, it got us here, didn’t it?”  </p>
<p>Suddenly brazen, Tim turns on his barstool to face Lucy and pushes a strand of hair out of her face so he can press a gentle kiss to her cheek.  </p>
<p>“Yeah,” She smiles at him as her face turns pink. “I guess it did.” </p>
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